There are things i ultimately want for you
for you to be at peace
for you to feel loved, always.for you to be healthier
in order to live a long, promising life.
For you to finish pilot school
so you’re never left with regretful wonder.
for you to have unlimited Disney passes
to go whenever your heart needs some extra magic.
For you to have children
& be able to instill in them
everything I love most about you.
For you to have a home
tailored to you, crafted by you– because you’ll love it that much more if it is.
all of these things i wish for you
& i hope to be your partner,
your cheerleader,
your confidante,
your person
through each & every milestone.
i don’t need a ring
or a marriage certificate
to be with you through all of these
magnificent little futures.

im afraid for our future
i stay up swiping through reposted articles
about unexplainable beached whales
untamable fires
plastic outnumbering fish in the sea
& have to wonder
do we really have a chance?
will we get the life
where we grow old
& have kids?
isn’t it a disservice, to want kids
only to leave them in the mess of our making?
will we have the years
to travel to the breathtaking sights?
& will they still be there for us,
when we seek them out?
its enough worry
to engulf me
much like the oceans will
unless i burn to a crisp first
its debilitating
crippling

& yet
theres this tiny dissonant thought
im assuming its the innate
primate in me
that encourages fight over flight
life over death.
it softly murmurs
in the spaces between
the cold hard beating,& what ifdespite all to come
you will have
a wonderful life?

she has lashes that almost touch her eyebrows
i thought to myself
silently cursing my genes
that gave me barely there
wispy little things
& not wispy in a, “cute, exotic, untouchable” way
but in the, “they look like someone plucked beetle legs,
broke them,
& sprinkled them onto my eyelids” kind of way.
hers are full, and healthy, and long, and make her eyes wide.her eyes.
They look like they could swallow the world whole with her doe-eyed gaze
not slanted
& uneven
& the losing card in my deck of features
featured on my face.

are they natural? are they extensions? how does she do it?
i must emulate, & pray
that with all the serums,
primers, solutions, & tricks
that my lashes could at least strive to be 30%
of what hers are.
so i investigate
video after videoFINALLY! a makeup tutorial
im hopeful in discovering the secret to long lashes

but wait..
her perfect
sunkissed freckles
that bridge her perfect little nose
that she wears proudly in ever photo
every vlog
every “i woke up like this” moment
are drawn in
with a brand-less
brown
eyeliner pencil.

he wants chickens.
he happily recites facts he’s read
about how self-sustainable they are
& shares his plans of a coop in the backyard
& a compost pile
that our kids will tend to.

he delicately asks
how i want the eventual chicken deaths
to be handled
because they dont live very long
& he embraces the extra-sensitive animal lover in me.

he makes plans
how ever small chickens seem
in the grand scheme of life.
he sees fresh farmed eggs
in our future
so despite any doubts i have
about our compatibility as housemates
they must be insignificant enough
for him to still see us caring for chickens.

there’s this simple test
theorists use to determine the success of children
they call it the marshmallow test.
they offer a child a marshmallow,
but also propose
that if they can wait
and resist the first marshmallow
they’ll be rewarded with two.
the impulsive, take the first
seizing the opportunity for gooey sugary goodness in the now
the successful, are those who wait
understanding the double reward for their self control
i am the sugar-driven
impulsive
marshmallow-craving child
only,
the parameters of my test
weren’t clear on the outset.
the two prized marshmallows after my patience
was not a guarantee.
it was a possibility
& i
not wanting to be left
wanting
knowing one is better than none
took that first marshmallow
like it was the last piece of heaven
i’d ever taste.

there are things i will probably never have again
now that i’m with you.
i will never have to dread
waking up to passive aggressive texts,
& the onslaught of angry, unproductive back & forth digital arguing.
i will never have to question who’s blowing up your phone,
& pulling your loyalty, your attention from me.
i will never have to imagine all my dirty secrets
that you’re airing out over drinks with the boys.

you don’t realize the bad that you’re missing
when all you’ve been showered with
is consistent
unconditional
ground-shakinggood.

“so you mean.. a mature relationship?” you ask, smirking.
“no. i mean… the kind of relationship i didn’t know i deserved, but was looking for, my whole life.”